Chapter 298
The grand ballroom shimmered under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers, the air alive with the delicate clinking of champagne flutes.
Isabella Sinclair sat alone at a secluded table, swirling the golden liquid in her glass absently. Olivia Montgomery had excused herself earlier to handle a sudden crisis at her family’s company, leaving Isabella to fend off the inevitable attention that came with being the most striking woman in the room.
With her head slightly bowed, her dark lashes casting delicate shadows over her cheeks, she was an enigma—beautiful, untouchable. More than one man had dared to approach, only to be met with a polite but firm dismissal.
Why is a woman like her sitting here all alone?
A man in an impeccably tailored suit sauntered over, his confidence radiating like an aura. He adjusted his cufflinks, making sure the diamond-encrusted Rolex on his wrist caught the light.
“I’m the Vice President of the Walnut Group,” he announced, as if that alone should impress her. “We’re spearheading a major development in the South Bay. Exclusive opportunities, high-profile connections—you know how it is.” His smile was slick, practiced. “Care for a dance?”
To him, women were trophies to be collected, and Isabella—with her effortless elegance—was already assigned a value in his mind.
She barely glanced up. “No, thank you.”
She had come here to avoid Alexander Kingsley and Julian Whitmore, not to entertain some self-important businessman.
His smile faltered. Rejection wasn’t something he was accustomed to. His expression darkened, embarrassment twisting into anger.
“Who do you think you are?” His voice rose, drawing glances from nearby guests. “Women like you come to these events hoping to snag a wealthy husband, but let me tell you—”
Before he could finish, a hand clamped around his wrist like a vise. A second later, a sharp kick to the back of his knee sent him crashing to the floor with a pained yelp.
“Ahh! What the hell—?”
His furious glare snapped upward—and froze.
Standing over him was a man whose calm demeanor did nothing to mask the danger beneath. Impeccably dressed, his icy gaze sent a chill down the man’s spine.
“Ms. Sinclair is an honored guest of the Kingsley family,” the man said, his tone lethally polite. “Mr. Kingsley has made it clear that disrespecting her is tantamount to declaring war on us all.”
Sebastian Harrington released the man’s wrist and turned to Isabella, his concern genuine. “Ms. Sinclair, are you all right?”
She exhaled, barely sparing the man on the floor a glance. “Just a nuisance, Sebastian. Nothing more.”
The man’s face drained of color. His drunken arrogance had blinded him to the truth.
Isabella Sinclair.
The name alone sent a jolt of terror through him.
The renowned perfumer. The champion speed skater. The woman Alexander Kingsley—infamous for his indifference toward women—had personally escorted tonight.
His stomach dropped.
“I—I didn’t realize it was you,” he stammered, scrambling to his knees. “Please, forgive me! I didn’t mean—”
Sebastian cut him off with a look so cold it could freeze fire. “Unfortunately for you, Mr. Kingsley’s orders are absolute. Starting tomorrow, all business dealings between the Kingsley Group and Walnut Group will cease.”
The man’s mouth went dry. The financial repercussions would be catastrophic. Millions lost. His career—ruined.
Before he could muster another plea, Sebastian was already guiding Isabella away.
“Ms. Sinclair,” he murmured, his usual composure fraying at the edges, “I wouldn’t have interrupted, but… Mr. Kingsley may be in trouble.”
